Paris in Crisis

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: CORONAVIRUS SERIES

Paris in Crisis

 

Paris is overcrowded

It has long been so

It is a part of its eternal charm

The optimal use of space

The ancient walls of stone

That reach back centuries

And proclaim sophistication

A great source of pride

To all of civilization

 

Paris is in crisis once again

She survived the first and second waves

She endured the third

Now she suffers through a fourth

The monster is at her door

And she must do battle once more

 

Parisians are famous for their style

Their carefree devil-may-care spirit

They would give anything for art

Anything for architecture

Anything for poetry and dance

Anything for music and joy

And breathing the fresh spring air

Without a waste of care

 

Afternoons beneath a loving sun

Evenings in a gentle breeze

Enjoying the company of others

Discussing love and other wonders

Politics and esoteric delights

Fine food and copious wine

Living their lives on Paris time

 

They would give it all for love

And nearly all for art

But it seems they will not sacrifice

A season of sartorial pleasures

To bring this nightmare to a close

The world will follow where Paris goes

 

Dead in Brazil

RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: CORONAVIRUS SERIES

 

Dead in Brazil

 

A nation’s people pay the price

For a supremely incompetent leader

Bolsonaro served the function

Of a coronavirus breeder

 

He refused to acknowledge

The nature of the beast

Allowing it to spread from

The west out to the east

 

Now the virus takes its hold

As it kills both young and old

While the people party on

Like the chorus of a song

Though they know it can’t be right

They have given up the fight

So they pretend it isn’t real

They tell their hearts not to feel

They fill their days with laughter

But will mourn forever after

 

It is the dirge of Bolsonaro

It is a bold and deadly show

Three hundred thousand dead and rising

Without sign that it will slow

 

We must bow our heads and pray

If we are the praying kind

We will send what help we can

Take what comfort you can find

 

Machines II

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: LIFE SONGS

Machines II

 

Machines machines machines

Machines are everywhere

They’re in your living quarters

They chase you up the stairs

They follow you downtown

They greet you at the fair

They take you to the market

And choose your style of hair

 

Machines machines machines

Machines are everywhere

They get inside your head

They know how much you care

When they disapprove your actions

They look at you and stare

They take you for a ride

They tell you when to share

Machines machines machines

Machines are everywhere

 

You may live in the mountains

And breathe the mountain air

You may live on an island

In your own private lair

You may live in the desert

So far away no one would dare

But you can’t escape their reach

Machines are everywhere

 

Collective Unconscious

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: LIFE SONGS

Collective Unconscious

 

(for Carl Jung)

 

That which connects us all

Making the many one

From the most remote tribe in the Amazon

To the high church in Rome

From the oldest temple of Buddha

To the Anastasi cave dwellings

The trinity within the trinity without

The mother the father the great spirit

The father the mother the holy ghost

The past the present the future

The mother the father the child

That which connects each of us

And from the multitudes makes one

In the deepest folds of our unconscious mind

That which binds us to the ancestors

That which links us to our successors

That which hurls us into an unknown

Future with eyes wide shut

The conscious the unconscious the subconscious

The dream the nightmare the waking world

The day the night and twilight

Life death and in between

Our desired needs and possessions

The imagined the perceived the real

The mind the body the heart

The pillars of life faith and art

We are all what we are as all

We are all what we are as one

Foreboding

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: LIFE SONGS

Foreboding

 

You can hear it in the wind

Whispering through the trees

Down the alleys

Through the streets

A gently calling breeze

 

You can feel it in the blood

Coursing through your veins

In the bones

In the marrow

In the air before it rains

 

You can see it in the faces

Of the people on the streets

In their smiles

In their laughter

In everyone you meet

 

You can sense it in the forest

Where the creatures run away

In the hunters

In the hunted

A haunting sense of dismay

 

You observe it in the sky

An enduring sense of sorrow

Darker blues

Deeper clouds

A striking fear of no tomorrow

 

Massacre in Myanmar

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: GLOBAL DEMOCRACY

Massacre in Myanmar

 

In the land once known as Burma

Killing protesters is a sport

Shoot them down like rabid dogs

Violence as a first resort

 

It’s a land of military rule

Democracy is overturned

They say it’s for the good of all

But here’s a lesson we’ve all learned:

The people never benefit

When the ballot box is burned

 

No one wants despotic rule

No one yearns for subjugation

The people rise and rise again

To keep a democratic nation

 

Once again the usual suspects

Line up to praise oppression

Russia China Pakistan

Dictatorships are in session

 

The violence is a given

The blood is on your hands

Listen to your people

Give in to their demands